


The Tragic Preparation for Life

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Birth, Bittersweet Ending, Bodily Functions, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Cursed, Health class assignment, I haven’t reread this in a while, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Is this from the fallopian tube’s POV?, I’m so sorry, Not a kink though, POV character is the ovary, Pregnancy, Process of fertilization, Reincarnation, Sad Ending, Sentient Organs, Sentient egg, Sentient ovaries, Sentient sperm, THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY, Tragedy, dont know, fertlization, how the FUcK do i tag this, i think, ironically serious, not kinky, prepare your eyes, sentient reproductive system, sorta?, tell me if i need to tag something, update: yes fallopian tube's pov I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I wrote this for my health class and I am so, so sorry. Feast your eyes.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Tragic Preparation for Life

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts I remember about this assignment:  
> We were supposed to write about the process of fertilization using sentient bodily characters. He suggested Peg the Egg as a name.   
> I asked specifically if there was a page count and he said no.   
> I took that as a personal challenge.  
> According to the document history my final edit of this was 2:24 AM.   
> God answers to me now.

They all die the same. 

They come and they go, and then vanish into the beyond. Regularly they arrive. One egg, then the next, and then the next, usually monthly, a cycle of soft disappointment and ever-looming suffering. Our human had no idea of the true pain. This menstruation cycle is torture; torture, plain and exposed. 

They start in an ovary, those naive hopeless factories that produce the poor creatures. 

Out of the ovaries, come the eggs. 

Out of an ovary comes the monthly poor egg, teeming with excitement and with life as they come down my tube, inching ever closer to me. 

My anxiety always builds. I know it won’t happen.

It’s never happened before. 

The egg comes from their ovary before arriving to me, waiting. Me, the fallopian tubes. 

Every small excited egg, so hopeful and blissfully unaware, waits inside me. And I have to give them false hope, false comfort, false promises they could be the one. 

Every time they are not. There is never the one. 

Every time the egg goes unfertilized. Every time it stays there, aging, wondering if it did something incorrect, wondering if it was making a mistake, wondering if there was something wrong with it. 

I have to witness, helpless, as it travels to the uterus, and then to the endometrium, the lining, until it liquifies and it flows out of the body. And the poor egg… 

That poor egg.

The screams as they’re bled out into the beyond will always ring in my mind. 

I try not to get attached to every egg that arrives, but they always tug in my affections. 

But this cycle’s egg is… different. Feels special. 

Very talkative, for one thing. 

“My name’s Egbertine,” was the first thing it announced, barely out of ovary, the cilia always all too eager to pass them along. 

“That’s nice.” I wasn’t looking to start a conversation, I wasn’t looking to get attached; with every ovulation came menstruation, and the egg would be removed from the body like all the others. 

“My name’s Egbertine, and I’m an egg.” 

“I can already tell that you’re an egg cell.” 

That thing was not picking up on my disinterest. 

“Yeah, but my name starts with an E and I’m an egg, so I can introduce myself as Egbertine the Egg. That’s alliteration because it starts with the same letter, which is cool.” 

“Fascinating.” 

“Alliteration is cool and should be used whenever possible. You know what’s lame?” 

“I don’t.” This egg was so naive and cheerful like the rest, it was sickening, but like every time, I found myself warming up way too fast. 

“It’s lame to pick rhyming over alliteration. Like if my name was something like… I don’t know, Peg. Peg the Egg. Something starting with E would be much more awesome. Alliteration is so superior to rhyming.” 

“Hmm, okay.” That opinion seemed random, but I did enjoy the company. “Did you know a Peg from your ovary?” 

“I can’t remember, but probably! There’s plenty of us in there, just all together. You would think we’d all make great conversation with each other, but really it’s hard for anyone to talk to you when you’re all together like that. Too many voices, you can’t make out anything. I don’t think I’ve ever managed to hear an ovary speak because every egg was so loud.” 

I communicate with the ovaries often, they’re rather protective with the eggs and always chide me for gentler handling of them.

“Oh, interesting.” The hairs in the lining of my tube are still helping it until it'll settle and start waiting for the fertilization that won’t come. “How is the trip?” 

“The hairs helping me feel so funny! I’m glad I’m not that ticklish, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing.” 

Every egg mentions the cilia first thing, it’s amusing how identical their opinions are all.

“They’ll keep pushing you until you settle into your spot, and then you’ll wait…” I’m going to trail off but it shouts out an excited response. “For a sperm!” 

I know the sperm won’t come. 

It’ll exit the body helplessly like all the rest. 

But I can’t tell it that yet. It’s too soon. “Yes, you’ll be here if a sperm comes to fertilize you.” 

“When do you think that’ll happen?” It’ll ask, sounding more like it is asking its own imagination rather than me. I simply say it could be any time. It falls silent after that, but the egg does talk to me later. 

Time passes. I’m not sure how much. I get involved into conversation with the egg more and more often. I form an emotional attachment, like I have with all the rest. 

Egbertine didn’t feel quite like the other eggs; she talked about more than her hopes of being fertilized and how exciting it would be as a zygote, embryo, and fetus. She talked about it some, of course, as she was an egg and that was her entire purpose. But she also asked me about my experiences, about my life as it has been in the reproductive system. It was nice to talk about myself for once instead of lying about the likelihood of the fertilization of an egg. 

That made it more painful to give her false promises. I could not tell Egbertine no egg before her had been fertilized and it was likely she wouldn’t be as well. I had to sugar-coat or glance over the possibility. 

I told her nothing of the fate of the other eggs before her, just enjoyed her company as the days blended by.

I was starting to feel the deep-seated resignation settle into me as Egbertine’s worry began to set in lie all the rest. It was the tip of the iceberg of her stage of wondering, wondering where the sperm were, wondering why she hadn’t been turned into a zygote yet, just beginning to wonder if something was defective about her. Of course I shut down all talk of that, hating to hear her doubt herself when she was perfectly fine, but there is so much one can do about another’s inner insecurities. 

I was preparing for the beginning of the end until I heard the news from the uterus. 

There was a penis in the vagina! Our human was having sex, with no condom! Sexual intercourse meant a chance for ejaculation, and that meant sperm! Sperm meant a chance of fertilization, and fertilization meant no horrid menstruation flushing Egbertine out of the body! 

I couldn’t have been more excited. This had never happened before. I related the news to Egbertine, and she was ecstatic. The reproductive system was on edge, waiting for the deposit of sperm. Finally, they came. It took more time than I ever expected, but they came. 

I heard their clamoring voices before I saw them. There were so many of them. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Up they came, fighting their way into me, the fallopian tube, all clamoring and shouting loudly for Egbertine’s attention. 

“Pick me, pick me!” They all insisted, trying to implant themselves into her as she examined them, overwhelmed and flustering with pleasure all at once. 

“Show me who has the best DNA!” She called to them. “You have to be the best, or I won’t let you in!” 

They continued to fight for space around her as she carefully tried to examine every one. 

One sperm somewhere to her right suddenly found himself easier to insert into her. Before he could ask a question, Egbertine announced, “I like you. You’re the one.”

“Really?” The sperm squeaked, suddenly shy from shouting for her attention moments ago. 

“Yes, really,” I assured him, proud from a distance. Egbertine seemed so professional, knowing exactly what to do, but I still had a bad feeling in my gut. I wasn’t yet sure what from. 

“Oh, okay,” he said, starting to insert himself. 

Panic struck me, and I wasn’t sure whether this whole occurrence was a good thing after all. 

“Wait!” I interrupted, and he stopped. “Tell us about yourself first.” 

“Fallopian tube?” Egbertine asked. “What are you doing? What’s going on? 

“You don’t know him that well,” I blurted, trying to find an explanation for myself when I didn't even understand. “We just want to be sure he’s worthy.” Was that why? 

“Actually, that makes sense.” I’d never been more relieved that she agreed with me. “So, what’s your name? What’s your story? What are your feelings on alliteration?” 

“Oh. My name’s Solomon. Solomon the Sperm. My story? You mean where I came from?” 

Egbertine and I both agreed. We knew very little about male reproductive systems. 

“I was made in the testes,” Solomon started.   
Egbertine seemed somehow pleased by this. “I was made, too,” she said. “I was made in the ovaries.”

“Did you say she was a fallopian tube?” 

I said I was. 

“That’s awesome. The male reproductive system has a tube, too--more than one, actually. I was made in the testes, but specifically these seminiferous tubules. They’re tubes. It took me so long to develop! Like, almost two, three months, it was 60 whole days!” 

Egbertine and I were both awestruck. 

He seemed excited to share the story of his creation like Egbertine had been. “Oh, and then we got to wait even more time until we were  
finished! We had to mature in this organ called an epididymis, and wait almost ten whole days. I thought I’d go insane waiting!” 

I could only imagine. “Then I got carried down a tube--” 

“Oh, so I did I, I got carried down the fallopian tubes!” 

“Mine was vas deferens. I didn’t stay in them, though, I went to a uthera.” 

“You sure have funny names,” Egbertine said after a moment, and I agreed with her. “None of your tubes seem to have tubes in the name, and “uthera” sounds like “uterus” but isn't that only for females?” 

Solomon was amused. “Yeah, I guess it’s funny. Guess what? The urethra is another tube!”

“You have so many tubes!” I exclaimed. 

“I know! It’s like a roller coaster over there! The urethra is how we exit the penis. That’s the same tube urine exits through, which is gross, though.”   
“I’m gonna go to the uterus once you’ve fertilized me. There we’re going to develop into a baby!” 

They both squealed in excitement. I felt sick. 

Speaking of fertilization, the other sperm had been rejected by Egbertine. I think she was even making them sick to make them go away. “Wait!” I finally figured out what was bothering me. 

“What’s wrong?” Egbertine asked. Solomon stayed silent. “If you let yourself get fertilized,” I explained slowly, “You’ll be a zygote.” 

“That’s a good thing,” Egbertine was confused. “It’s a really good thing, isn’t it?” 

“But when you’re a zygote, you won’t be an egg and sperm, you’ll be a zygote, one entity. You… won’t be Solomon and Egbertine anymore. You’ll be gone.” 

Egbertine was strangely silent for such a talkative egg. 

“If you’re not Egbertine, you won’t know me and you can’t be with me anymore. You’ll have to go to the endometrium of the uterus until you’re ready to birthed out.”

“I don’t want to leave you. You’ve been a fantastic friend,” she said after a moment. Her voice ached. “But this is my purpose. I can’t deny the human the chance to have a child.” 

Solomon slowly grew closer. 

“You can fertilize me now.” Her voice grew sad but steady. “I think we’re ready. And don’t worry. There’ll always be new eggs.” The vast majority, if not all of them, will die. 

I still couldn’t tell her that. 

So I witnessed and Solomon and Egbertine combined to form a new entity, a zygote. I witnessed as the cilia tubes ushered them more and more away from me. I witnessed as I lost my best friend, the only friend I had that hadn’t been flushed away in a trauma of blood and uterine lining. 

I witnessed as the zygote grew into an embryo and the embryo grew into a fetus and the fetus into a healthy human child. 

I witnessed as our human embraced her baby in the delivery room, never truly knowing the tragic preparation for life.

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations! You did it. Please comment F to pay respects to the fallen eggs.


End file.
